


Excuses

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Meetings, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 01:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12900795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: He saw it — thin wisps of dull silver rising from behind Mondo’s silhouette in the crowd, and now the smell lingered like a ghost in the air, unseen but still very present.





	Excuses

**Author's Note:**

> For the [AAC2017 December 1st prompt](http://auideas.tumblr.com/post/168091016187/aac-2k17-december-1st): _Working in a coffee shop can have its…strangeness…but it has to be said that nothing topped that one person who Character A could’ve sworn was hiding a tiny dragon under the lapel of their jacket._
> 
> Content warning: smoking (but not really)!

“Excuse me!” Ishimaru interrupts the raucous laughter with his best customer service voice, pleased to find that it doesn’t crack.

The table of delinquents hush each other comically, clearly mocking him with high-pitched echoes of “Excuse me! Excuse me!” but Ishimaru doesn’t allow it to dishearten him. He has to do his job, and he is committed to it, no matter how they may jibe and holler. He clears his throat, speaking directly to the very reason why he had deigned to approach this spirited gaggle of customers in the first place. The man has yet to spare him a glance, and Ishimaru finds it is becoming quite rude. “Sir. This is a non-smoking establishment and you appear to have been smoking.”

“What?” The customer levels him with a fiery stare, deeply lined eyes flaring with the light of a challenge, “You talkin’ to me? I’ve never smoked a day in my life, and I ain’t about to start.”

“You were.” Ishimaru accuses — and though it is true that there is not a cigarette or lighter in sight, and the customer looks, as his exuberant co-worker Asahina had put it, ‘like somebody that could probably snap you in half’, he continues onward with a stiff frown. “I would like to kindly request that you cease this at once, or you will be removed from the premises. This is your first warning.”

“Ooh, a warning!” sings an auburn-haired punk to the customer’s right, “Whatcha gonna do, Mondo? Gonna take that scary warning sitting down?”

“Shut the hell up,” Mondo shoots back, shoving him aside before he turns back to Ishimaru. “Listen. Buddy. I don’t smoke. And I wasn’t fuckin’ smoking.” His scowl is intense. “Back off if you know what’s good for you.”

“I know you were smoking.” Ishimaru insists. He saw it — thin wisps of dull silver rising from behind Mondo’s silhouette in the crowd, and now the smell lingered like a ghost in the air, unseen but still very present. “I am not berating you. I am simply asking you not to do it again.”

Mondo sneers at him, but before he can unleash any sort of unpleasant retort, a pillar of smoke billows from the collar of his jacket and he coughs violently instead.

“Smoking! You are smoking!” Ishimaru exclaims immediately, waving his arms in an attempt to dispel it. Mondo squints at him in disbelief.

“The fuck?! Have you ever seen someone smoke like this?!” He, too, frantically pats at the smoke, pushing a tiny red … snout back under his collar. It peeks out again, revealing a winged reptile with a mischievous, toothy smile, and Ishimaru stares at it inquisitively before Mondo forces it back under the fabric with a gentle pushing motion. “Shh, no Chuck, stay in there,” he whispers, “Stay. Good boy. That’s a good boy. Yes, you are.”

The guy next to Mondo hoots loudly, and perhaps a little too late, whisking Ishimaru’s attention away with a sharp, “Anyway! Barista boy, our town’s favorite coffee man, our new best friend, Ishi-something-I-can’t-read-your-nametag-from-here. Just pretend you saw nothin’ and we good, yeah?”

Ishimaru points to himself. “Are you referring to me?”

“Leon,” Mondo hisses, poking his peculiar pet’s nose as he peers out for the third time, snorting mini smoke clouds. “We had it under control, and ya just fuckin’ ruined it.”

“Uh, no, I’m saving your ass here, be quiet.” Leon grins at Ishimaru again. “Dude. Forget about it. Dragons don’t exist. You know that, right?”

“I understand that much,” Ishimaru answers, brows knitting in confusion. So the little thing was a dragon, then. How fantastical. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Leon!”

“Shit!” Leon yells, slamming his fists on the table. “I said the d-word, didn’t I?!”

“Are you even listening to yourself?! You can’t just bring the d-word into the conversation, this is why I told you to shut up!”

“He already saw lil Chucky though! And he didn’t threaten to call the police, like some other pretty people we know!”

“What, so now you’re gonna broadcast it to the fuckin’ world?!”

“Can I… see him again?” Ishimaru asks with an almost childlike innocence, halting the argument in its place.

“No!” Mondo holds his hands over his collar, but the little dragon pops out from under his hands to say hello.

Ishimaru is enchanted. He grabs Mondo's stiff bicep in his excitement. "Please, I won't harm him, I just want to look."

At the sight of his expression, or maybe for the sake of his dragon's eagerness, Mondo slowly and ever so carefully lets his hands fall away, but not without propping up his collar further to hide him from any other prying eyes.

“Ya get a minute to stare, and the price is your silence.” 

“This is an impressively shady deal!”

He glares. “Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it.” Ishimaru beams, edging closer, until he’s almost shielded by Mondo’s jacket himself. “Hello! You’re a rare creature, aren’t you?” The dragon makes a happy rumbly noise.

“He’s still a baby,” Mondo explains with a touch of fondness. “He won’t understand what you’re saying, and he’ll blow smoke in your face, but he’s not a bad kid.”

“Heh, kind of like you.” Leon adds, leaning over Mondo’s shoulder only to get elbowed by his friend. “Ow! Dude, c’mon, I’m saying nice things about you and this is how you repay me? What kind of one-sided friendship is this?”

“Fuck off, Leon,” Mondo says through gritted teeth.

“Fuck on, Leon,” Leon grins and winks at his friend.

“I’m not … following,” Ishimaru says, tilting his head in confusion. Chuck mirrors the gesture and Ishimaru wants nothing more than to steal the dragon from his customer and take him home. He firmly reminds himself that theft is a crime and is also, by societal standards: not good. Despite acknowledging this, he feels the urge to steal Mondo's jacket as well, because it looks very warm and cosy. 

“Nothin’ to follow, man. Minute’s up and I hear sirens, so we’re getting outta here.”

“No,” Leon whines, “I can’t believe my sweet baby doll actually called the cops on us.”

“You callin’ her that is enough of a reason to.” Mondo says, tucking Chuck back into his jacket and calling orders to the rest of the table. With a start, Ishimaru realizes that he must have been the leader. Were they criminals? Oh no, was he talking to bad people? 

Hurriedly, the gang starts tossing napkins and other miscellaneous items into the table before they’re up like a whirlwind, sweeping outside the coffee shop in a frenzy of limbs and random puffs of smoke — still trickling from Mondo’s jacket. “See ya ‘round. ‘Cause. You know. Dragon’s seemed to take some kinda likin’ to ya or whatever. And remember, uh, not a word to anyone.” Mondo grumbles and curses under his breath before he takes off.

“Oh! Of course! Come again!” Ishimaru calls after him. In a joking manner, because he has read that friends oftentimes will joke with one another, he adds, “And you remember, no smoking!”

In the distance, Mondo gives him the middle finger. Ishimaru doesn’t know what that means, and he thinks he will look up that gesture when he gets home.

Sadly, he wonders if they will ever cross paths again.

Asahina pads up behind him, wiping her forehead as she gets to work on clearing the table. “Weird guys.” She comments, wrinkling her nose as she stacks some tissues on a plate. “Hey, baguette head with the smoking jacket left his number.” She throws the crumpled paper at his head. “Guess he chickened out before he could give it to ya.”

Ishimaru lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.


End file.
